


Did We Do It?

by Arriva



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Also don't be like Eve if someone is drugged take them to the hospital, Choking, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Morning After, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Eve, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 14:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18874759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arriva/pseuds/Arriva
Summary: A dazed and drugged Villanelle shows up at Eve's place.





	Did We Do It?

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place some time between 2x06 and the middle of 2x07! It's also inspired by a Tumblr prompt that I've seen going around for ages but I can only remember some of the details.

London. It's late. It’s raining.

Niko isn't coming this time.

Eve shakes the thought away as she types up a briefing. Every night since he's left, she's tried to ignore it. The empty spaces where he used to be. She keeps going into another room and expecting him to be there because that's just what she's used to. It's not that she wants him back; her brain just _expects_ him to be there. But he's not. He's not going to be there. Only the past couple nights has she come close to being comfortable with being alone in the apartment.

Then the rainstorm hit, and long story short, it's 2:39 in the morning, she's not going to bed, and she's okay with that.

She's okay with that.

Lightning flashes. Should she turn on a light? Eve looks up, only realizing now that the glow of her laptop screen is her only light source. She'll turn on a light. She gets up and trudges toward the hallway. Maybe she'd sleep better on the couch. Who knows? She'd probably sleep better anywhere but their-  _her_ bedroom.

As Eve reaches for the light switch, her foot steps in a puddle.

She freezes.

The house is quiet, save for the patter of rain against the windows. Her hand draws back from the light switch. Under the cover of darkness, Eve takes a tentative step forward. Another puddle of water. Like a footprint. 

It can't be him.

Eve follows the trail of water to her kitchen and bites back a scream when she makes out the dark outline of a figure standing there. It's not Niko, unless he's absolutely lost it. The figure doesn't move, which is a good sign for Eve. She still has the element of surprise.

Eve makes a choice.

She flips on the light switch, thinking  _Go for the eyeballs_.

And promptly screams.

" _Villanelle_?"

Once the shock of Villanelle in her kitchen _again_ passes, Eve takes in the sight of her. She's barefoot, a pair of red heels cast aside on the floor. Her makeup is running, most likely because of the rain. She looks like she came back from a party, but that begs the question what the hell she was doing at a party.

Even more concerning, she greets her with no witty comments or flirtatious smiles but simply a blank stare. "Is this some kind of joke?" Eve says.

"Didn't know... where to go..." Her voice is more slurred than normal.

Which only irritates Eve. "Are you drunk? Seriously?"

Then Eve gets a closer look at her. Not drunk.

_Drugged._

"Something in my Alabama Slammer..." Villanelle mutters. She tries to walk only to slip and fall against the table. Eve rushes to her side.

"Oh god, okay." She's drenched. Her magenta coat, probably a very nice fur when it was dry, hangs off her like a dead animal. "Let's- let's get you out of this."

Villanelle shrugs -well, _slumps-_ out of her coat. Eve hangs it over one of the chairs. What the hell happened to her? Not that Villanelle can tell her right now; she looks about ten minutes from crashing. Eve needs to get her upstairs.

With the practice of helping home dozens of drunk friends in college, Eve hauls Villanelle up and hoists an arm over her shoulder. Villanelle's head lolls against her- is she  _smelling_ her? Getting her up the stairs isn't easy, and getting her into Eve's bedroom is shockingly easy. The eeriest part is when Eve lifts Villanelle off her, and she just  _stands_ next to her bed like she's waiting to be told what to do.

"I'll..." She'll what? Fix this? How? Villanelle waits patiently, and Eve doesn't like it. "Be right back."

Eve impulsively goes to her bathroom. "You can sleep in the bed," Eve says from the bathroom. She grabs a towel then returns to the bedroom. "I'll take the- oh my god.”

Eve drops the towel.

Villanelle's taken her dress off.

"I..." Eve looks down at the carpet. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her blood red lipstick. Don’t look at her blue lace bra and matching panties. Don't look at the delicate curve of her shoulders- goddammit. Once Eve brings her eyes up, she can't tear them away. Villanelle is motionless, nothing like the fluid and energetic person Eve's used to. This is wrong. This is voyeuristic and wrong.

And yet she doesn’t stop. Not until her eyes land on it.

The scar.

Eve's mark on her. Eve hesitantly approaches Villanelle. Villanelle doesn't move. It looks smaller than she expected. Just a little pink line on her otherwise flawless skin. What would happen if she just...

Before she can stop herself, Eve's fingers brush against the scar.

Which is a  _mistake._

It happens quickly; even in her inebriated state, Villanelle is fast. She shoves Eve down on the bed. Suddenly, her hands are around Eve's neck.

Eve tries to lift her head. "Villanelle, wait-"

Villanelle slams her against the bed board, causing Eve to cry out. Her grip squeezes around Eve's throat. Eve gasps for air, only managing to draw in the smallest breath. Villanelle straddles Eve, but it has none of the fire, none of the... _finesse_ that Eve's seen in her before. Whatever she took has put her body on autopilot.

She could kill her.

Eve Polastri, aged 47, died of strangulation in her apartment. She is remembered by her loving husband of- oh, _wait._ Scratch that. Her husband just left her, and being alone and vulnerable in the middle of London, it was inevitable really. The last thing she felt was a pair of cold hands around her throat. The last thing she saw was the vacant stare of a trained killer. And the last thought she had was... her eyes widen.

Niko was right.

She  _likes_ it.

"Villanelle," Eve tries again, only managing to speak just above a whisper, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Past her drugged-out mind, Eve sees a flicker of recognition. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," Eve repeats. "I'm trying to get you into bed. You've been drugged."

Villanelle leans down to the point where she is only inches away from Eve. Her breaths are hot against Eve's cheek. "Promise?" she whispers with none of the playful confidence she normally possesses. She sounds... scared.

"I _promise_ ," Eve says. 

Seconds pass. Her heart is pounding. Very slowly, Villanelle sits up. Her fingers loosen from Eve's throat. Her shoulders relax. Her body decides she's not in danger; _Eve_ is not a danger. Eve breathes a sigh of relief. She gingerly peels Villanelle's hands from her neck then cautiously sits up. Villanelle doesn't move. 

Which is a problem because Villanelle is on her lap.

"Villanelle?" Her hands rest tenderly on Villanelle's shoulders. She gives her a gentle shake. "Villanelle?"

The vacant look in her eyes has returned, now accompanied by heavy eyelids. The drugs must be making her drowsy. Complacent.

For the briefest moment, Eve imagines herself slitting the throat of the person who dared slip something into her drink.

She can't let her sleep in her underwear. Eve pulls off her nightdress. She manages to get Villanelle's head and arms through it despite Villanelle being deadweight at this point. Eve awkwardly maneuvers her onto the mattress. Villanelle ends up on -oh, the irony- Niko's side of the bed. Eve sighs. When is she going to stop thinking about him?

Eve fully intends to sleep on the couch downstairs, but when she tries to get off the bed, Villanelle whines and reaches for her. Eve looks down at her. In her half-asleep state, with her honey-colored hair spread across the pillow, she looks so innocent. So vulnerable.

Dammit dammit _dammit._

"Fine. You win."

Eve reaches for an oversize t-shirt on the floor -the one she slept in the night before- and throws that on before slipping under the comforter. Villanelle immediately rolls over by Eve's side, their bodies fitting almost too perfectly together. She's damp from the rain but also warm. Her skin is soft. How had Eve never noticed how soft her skin was? Or maybe Eve's just enjoying the feeling of sharing a bed with someone again.

Someone who currently has her arms wrapped around Eve's waist.

Eve melts into the mattress. This is... much nicer than she anticipated. "Goodnight, Villanelle."

She switches off the lamp. Villanelle nuzzles her neck, too quickly for Eve to push back the contented hum that escapes her lips. Her last thought before drifting off to sleep is how pissed off Villanelle's going to be that she won't remember any of this.

* * *

For the first time in days, Eve actually sleeps. Enough that when she wakes up, sunlight is peeking through the blinds. She's also cold. Eve turns over to see Villanelle hogging the entire comforter. 

What a weird night.

Eve gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom. She's trying to work out a crick in her neck when she catches her reflection in the mirror.

"Shit."

There are bruises on her neck.

Eve touches the red and purple marks on her neck with a frantic desperation. Like they’ll rub off, but they _don’t_. Villanelle is going to have a field day if she sees this. Eve reaches for the (probably expired) foundation in the back of her toiletries drawer and desperately starts caking it on the marks. God, she feels like a high schooler trying to hide a hickey.

It’ll have to do. As an extra precaution, Eve grabs her bathrobe. She pulls it as close to her body as possible then ties it tight.

As she heads downstairs, she spares one last glance at Villanelle. Bundled up in the blue comforter, an almost peaceful look on her sleeping face, she looks much smaller. Like she doesn't tower over Eve. Like she didn't have her hands on Eve's throat only hours ago. 

Eve opts to let her sleep. Not long after, she's boiling a cup of tea in the kitchen when she hears the sounds of Villanelle retching. That’s good she’s throwing up; the drugs are getting out of her system.

The retching stops a few minutes later. Eve briefly considers checking on her. But no. Villanelle's a big girl. She can take care of herself. Eve's tea is steeping when the sound of Villanelle's footsteps thud down the stairs. A few seconds later, she enters the kitchen.

And she looks absolutely pitiful.

"Hi," Eve says like Villanelle wearing her pajamas and showing up at her apartment in the middle of the night is a totally casual thing.

"Hi," Villanelle says. There's a sheen of sweat over her body and a little bit of puke on the corner of her mouth. She very laboriously, very casually sits on the kitchen table. In theory, it would have looked very sexy and intimidating. Villanelle eyes Eve's neck. "Why do you have makeup on your neck?"

Eve slides over a glass of water. "Drink."

Villanelle makes the face a child makes when they're forced to eat broccoli but still takes the glass of water. "How are you feeling?" Eve says.

"I fell asleep with my bra on. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that is?"

Eve takes a sip of tea. "I do, actually."

Villanelle scoffs. She reaches under the nightdress and seconds later, yanks the bra off and tosses it to the floor. Does Villanelle ever fold her clothes? The bra alone probably costs more than any clothing Eve's ever bought. "You could have taken it off, you know," Villanelle adds with a smirk.

Eve ignores that. "How much of last night do you remember?"

"I remember picking the lock on your door. Everything after that is..." Villanelle squints, "kind of not there?"

"Do you have any idea who drugged you?"

"Not really?" Villanelle says with a hint of embarrassment. "There were a lot of people in that basement."

"What the hell were you doing in a basement?"

"I went out!"

"You went _out_?" Eve's voice is getting louder. "We leave for Rome in two days!"

"I needed to blow off some steam!"

"So you just decided to go to some random basement party?"

"Why do you care what I do in my free time?"

"I care when it's stupid and irresponsible!"

"Why are you mad at me?" Villanelle snaps.

"I'm not mad at  _you-_ I'm sorry." Eve looks down at her mug. "I'm mad at... whoever did this to you."

Her confession hangs in the air. Eve wishes she could sink into the floorboards. Ever since Villanelle showed up last night, she can't stop thinking about the alternatives. What if Villanelle hadn't been close enough? What if she overdosed? What if whoever did this got to her first? What gets to Eve the most is how not even Villanelle is invulnerable to something as awful as this. It's not fair. She could probably snap this unknown person like a twig. How dare they bring her down to this level of vulnerability.

Then Villanelle's hand is over hers. Eve looks up at her. "I didn't know you were worried."

"Of course I was," Eve whispers.

Villanelle's thumb strokes her wrist. Her hand is warm. "Do you want me to kill them?"

" _No_."

"Relax! It was a joke." It isn't 100% a joke, and they both know it.

Eve pulls her hand away and goes to the sink. Instead of taking the hint, Villanelle follows her because it's Villanelle. "So?" she leans playfully over to Eve. "Did we do it?"

Eve stares back at her in disbelief. "Villanelle, you were drugged out of your _mind_ -"

"But did we do it?"

"No. We did not 'do it.'" Eve pointedly rinses out her mug, but Villanelle doesn't leave her side. Eve glances back at her. She looks lost in thought. What Eve would give to have a peek into her head. "Do you want breakfast? I have cereal, toast-"

"Can you make waffles?"

Eve frowns. _Can_ she? Does she even have the ingredients to make them? She thinks she recalls buying the mix for some kind of holiday a year or so back. Does waffle mix even keep that long? But for Villanelle...

"Sure."

Villanelle practically lights up. "Can you do the little dollop of whip cream on the top?"

"No promises."

Villanelle sits back on the kitchen table with a little more bounce than earlier. She stretches, and the nightdress slides up her legs in a way that feels very deliberate. "I'm glad we didn't."

A twinge of panic flutters through Eve. "Oh yeah?"

"Because I want to remember. When we do."

Whether Eve wants to admit it or not, she feels the same way.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Niko walks in on them. Thanks for reading!


End file.
